Old Blue Eyes
by International08
Summary: Post-ep for 3x23, Pretty Dead.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All Castle characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC

Author's Note: I think there will be at least one more chapter to this.

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><p>Kate Beckett returned from the break room to find a steaming cup of coffee and a paper bag waiting on her desk as her unofficial partner, Richard Castle, stared off into space. He was still standing, jacket in his hands but not yet draped in its usual place over the back of "his" chair. He seemed to be frozen.<p>

She knew he was sometimes struck by sudden inspiration She had seen how he would zone out for a moment or two before returning to her, usually with a twinkle or a wicked glint in his eye. He would pull out his pen and notepad or sometimes his phone to quickly record a few words-an idea, a turn of phrase-occasionally entire paragraphs.

This was different somehow. He looked thoughtful, yes. But not the way he did when he was puzzling his way through a story, or even one of their cases. He always looked at least a little excited then. Now he seemed, well, pensive, she would say if she were required to put a name on his expression.

She knew her eyes seemed to change colors depending on what she wore. Though her drivers' license simply called them green, they sometimes took on the hue of rich earth, or the gold of a lion's mane, or the sparkle of emeralds. Her partner's eyes were blue. And though they reached a sapphire tone when he wore certain shirts as compared to his normal topaz, they were always blue.

Except today. Today they seemed clouded, more gray than blue.

She was struck with a memory of afternoons spent coloring while her mother read to her when she was young. Even then she had wanted to keep things neatly in their boxes, well-defined. There had been a particular crayon whose name had always nagged at her. It was called cadet blue, but it was gray (at least it had always looked that way to her) and she had debated-at the ripe old age of six-whether to classify it with the blues to match its name or with the grays to match its tone. It was a stormy color, perfect for thunderclouds.

She didn't like that color in her partner's eyes.

"Castle?" she asked gently, keeping her tone quiet.

It took a moment, but he snapped from his daze. He turned to her with a smile. As usual, when he smiled at her, it was not just with his whole face (she secretly loved the way his eyes crinkled), but with the rest of his body as well, his shoulders relaxing and his previously closed posture opening up before her.

"Good morning, Detective. No new case yet?"

"Not yet, just paperwork from the last one," she replied, taking a sip of the coffee he'd brought her and ripping off a chunk of bearclaw to pop into her mouth.

She sat and scooted her chair closer to the desk as he arranged his jacket over the back of his chair and took his own seat, leaning with an arm on the edge of her desk. They were quiet for a moment and she could see him slipping back into his thoughts.

"Hey," she said softly, "You okay?"

"Hmm?" he murmured, turning to face her. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine."

She normally wouldn't push, but there was something about the gray in his eyes that caused her to forsake her usual policy.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "Because you don't seem fine. C'mon, Castle. What's up?"

He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes and she wondered if the bags she saw there were not from a late night writing but a late night worrying instead.

"Alexis is going to college," he said clearly, though his voice sounded scratchy.

"She had to grow up sometime, Castle," she pointed out, her words cushioned by her soft tone.

"No," he exclaimed, looking up at her suddenly. She leaned back.

"I mean, yes, I know she has to grow up, as much as I hate it," he paused and the detective took in the pain blooming on his face.

"But she wants to go early," he said, and she began to understand. "She wants to go to Stanford in January."

"Oh," she whispered, but he carried on.

"To be with Ashley," he spat, and the way the writer said the boys name surprised her.

"Oh," she repeated. "Is that why he came to see you? When you said he wanted you to advocate for him?"

"He came to ask me to talk her into trying a long-distance relationship," Castle said. "I told him I didn't want to interfere, but something he said made me reconsider, so I talked to her. And then, when I got home last night, Ashley was there, and she told me that since she's been taking extra classes all through high school she'll have enough credits to graduate in December and in January she's going to enroll in Stanford. Who knew that having a smart and hard-working daughter could backfire on me this way? I always thought she might stay close to home, go to NYU or Columbia. I mean, we've always been so close. I never thought she'd run off to California with her boyfriend."

Beckett waited patiently until he finished his heart-broken tirade. She thought about saying that at least she wasn't pregnant, just to lighten the mood, but then decided he might not be in the right frame of mind for that particular joke, especially with the way he'd turned Ashley's name into an expletive the moment before.

She settled for leaning toward him and offering some compassionate words.

"I'm sorry, Castle. I know how much having her here means to you."

He slowly met her gaze. The bullpen was still mostly empty, and the few detectives who were around seemed to be busy working on paperwork or talking on their phones.

"Thank you," he said. "I'm just not sure what to do without her. Who will I play against in laser tag? Who will eat my pancakes? Who will I hug at the end of a long and trying case?"

She couldn't resist teasing him a little this time.

"I'm sure you can find someone around here," she drawled, pausing a moment to let the hope rise in his expression before she continued. "I mean, you already play poker with the guys, and you know they'll eat anything. Plus, I hear Esposito's a good cuddler."

She leaned back in her chair and silently laughed at the shock in his wide eyes, although he quickly narrowed them, pursed his lips and shook his head at her as he always did when she gave as good as she got.

"I really am sorry, though," she said, and she moved her foot to knock lightly against his under the edge of her desk. "At least you've got awhile to get used to the idea."

"Or kill Ashley and hide his body," Castle said under his breath. She kicked him.

"Castle, you do realize you're sitting in a police department, surrounded by HOMICIDE detectives, don't you?"

"Hey," he said, putting on his wounded look. "A guy can dream."

"Yeah, well, you should probably stick to dreaming about other things, okay?" She realized as soon as she said the words that she'd left him an opening he wouldn't be able to turn down. Sure enough, he smirked, and she blushed.

"Oh, don't worry, Detective" he intoned, his voice dropping an octave. "Nearly all of my dreams consist of 'other things' and by the lovely shade of red on your beautiful face, I'm guessing you know exactly what I mean."

"Oh shush, Castle," she said, shaking her head at his usual antics. "Anyway, I'm curious. What was it that Ashley said to make you reconsider? I mean, dads don't usually side with their daughters' boyfriends, after all."

It was his turn to redden.

"He just appealed to me as a man who's been in love, that's all," he stuttered out.

She could tell that wasn't the whole story and debated whether she should dig for the rest. She looked at him, seeing the way he refused to meet her gaze.

"So that's all it takes? If he came to you and said, 'Mr. Castle, I'm in love with your daughter and I know you've been in love at some point, so please give us permission to go to Vegas and get married,' you'd just give him your blessing?"

As expected, Castle blanched at the thought of his baby girl getting married, especially in Vegas.

"God, no! I would never let them do that! But what if that's exactly what they do? What if they decide one weekend to drive over to Vegas and get married in some little chapel with Elvis presiding over the wedding? What if..."

She cut him off with another small kick under the desk.

"Relax, Castle, I think that's a bridge you won't have to cross for a while yet. Alexis is smart and she loves you. She would never get married without you there to walk her down the aisle."

He relaxed some at her words, but she could tell he was still a little riled up, so she figured she might get a bit more out of him yet.

"I'm just surprised. You've never seemed to be a huge fan of Ashley."

"I just found out we have more in common than I realized, that's all," he said quietly, and Kate watched as the blue that had come back into his eyes during their conversation and banter seemed to seep out again.

She decided to drop her questions for now, sensing that he wouldn't be receptive to her teasing.

They sat in contemplative silence for a little while, her pen scratching across the surface of her reports. For the first few minutes, he simply sat, but finally he pulled his phone out of his pocket. She thought she would hear the sound of birds being shot at pigs or the tap-tap of his writing a message or a scene for his new book. Instead, when she glanced up at him, he was just flicking his thumb across the screen, pausing every few seconds to mull something over and then continuing.

Normally, when she scooted away from her desk and stood up, he would respond like an over-eager puppy, practically begging to be taken out for a walk-to the morgue, to interview a witness, occasionally just to get coffee. This time, he stayed in his seat, his focus still on the small device in his hand.

She walked around behind him, curious. She should have known, she realized, when she saw what held his attention. It was a picture of him with Alexis, and she could tell both by their postures and the girl's dress that it had been taken before the last dance she had attended. He had, as a proud father, shown her pictures of Alexis all dolled up for the big night. She didn't remember seeing this one though, this candid moment of Castle twirling his little girl, the laughter on her face, the pure and unadulterated adoration on his.

"Oh, Castle," she whispered, and he startled, realizing for the first time that she was no longer at her desk. He tilted his face to look at her, and she was crushed to see the tears swimming in his eyes.

She didn't touch him often. The occasional shoulder bump or brush on the arm if one of them was having a rough day. Sure, they had tightly gripped each other's hands after Tyson got away, and he'd held her in the freezer, and she'd nearly jumped into his arms after he'd defused the bomb, but she considered those special circumstances, brought on by the need to celebrate, or keep warm, or simply make sure that they were both okay.

Now, though, there were no bombs or serial killers, just her partner with those devastatingly gray eyes that were pleading with her to make this better. She knew it was intimate, far too intimate for the setting and their lack of a romantic relationship, but she ignored the reasons why not and placed her left hand on the back of his neck, squeezing the muscles that were too tightly coiled.

"What if something happens to her or he breaks up with her or she hates it in California or..." The words tumbled out of his mouth until she swept her thumb across the skin just below his ear, catching the fine ends of his short hair.

"Come on, Partner, let's go for a walk."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All Castle characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC

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><p>"Come on, Partner, let's go for a walk."<p>

She gathered her jacket and watched as he slowly stood and shrugged on his own. He took the detective's jacket from her hands and held it open for her. Even in the midst of his own pain, she thought, he was taking care of her.

"Thanks," she whispered, and he acknowledged her with a slight nod.

"We'll be back in a bit," she called out to Ryan and Esposito who had just settled at their desks a few minutes before. They both gave her questioning looks, but she shook her head silently and darted her eyes toward Castle. They nodded.

She guided him toward the elevator with a hand on the back of his elbow. They rode silently down, walked out the doors, and began to make their way toward the riverfront. She could have taken him to a nearby park, but she knew it would be filled with children and their parents and she didn't want to remind him any more of what he was giving up, of the years that she suspected had passed far too quickly for him.

They crossed streets and dodged cars, not saying a word. For once, she was the one observing him, lost in thought, and quieter than she'd ever seen him. He was the one who always made her laugh, who kept talking even when she wanted him to shut up, who had supported her through everything, risking his own life to stay by her side.

This was not a life-threatening situation, not like the things they had faced together already. But it was clear to Kate Beckett that her partner needed her, needed her to have his back, to cover him as he ventured into unknown territory.

He reached the railing at the riverfront a moment before she did, leaning against the metal bar and gazing out over the water. It was a cloudy day and the wind whipped around them.

She slid her arm through his, wrapping her fingers around his bicep, and leaned against his shoulder. He looked at her, a hint of confusion shining in his eyes.

"It's cold," she said simply. She knew he would likely suspect that she wasn't as cold as she claimed, that she was offering him what comfort she could in such a way that neither would be uncomfortable.

He nodded, but pulled away from her for a moment, hesitating before he slung his arm around her shoulders and tucked her into his side.

"Better?" he asked, and his voice was rough and low.

She hummed her assent and they stood again in silence. It was strange, this intimacy with Castle, she mused. Strange, yet completely comfortable.

Finally, he spoke.

"Alexis was a surprise. I could never call her an accident, because she's the best thing that ever happened to me, but she was not planned. Meredith and I had been dating for a few months when she found out she was pregnant. She was busy looking for roles, and didn't want to be a mother, at least not then."

Beckett felt him tense against her.

"She wanted to have an abortion at first," he whispered, and a shudder swept through his body.

"I convinced her that we could do it, I proposed so she knew she wouldn't have to worry about money or whether I'd stick around. So we got married, and for a little while, things were okay."

Beckett glanced up at him to see a faraway look in his eyes. He was standing next to her, he had a strong arm wrapped around her, but she could tell he wasn't really with her. He was reliving his past, a past that she was beginning to realize was much more complicated and painful than she'd always thought.

"Eventually, I guess she just got tired of it. Of late nights and early mornings and me paying more attention to my daughter than to her. I was the one who got up with Alexis, even from the start. Meredith would sleep right through her crying. I knew then that I'd made a mistake. I just wanted so badly for my baby to have what I hadn't. Two parents who loved her and were there for her."

The detective reached up to squeeze the hand that rested on her shoulder. She meant it to be quick, gentle, a simple reassurance that she was still there and listening. But he turned his hand to grasp hers in return, holding on as if to a lifeline.

"So while I stayed home to be with Alexis, she was acting. One day I had a meeting with the execs at Black Pawn, and I asked her to stay with Alexis. She wasn't supposed to be working that day anyway, and she'd actually been complaining about how she never got to spend time with her daughter. My meeting ended early, and I just had a bad feeling, so I went straight home as quickly as I could. Before I even opened the door, I could hear Alexis crying."

He broke off with a harsh tone, and she looked up to see that he was glaring fiercely at the water below. It wasn't a look she had seen often from him, only once really-when he'd been beating Lockwood to a bloody pulp.

"I didn't know what had happened, but I rushed up to her room. She was fine, just wet and hungry. I changed her and took her downstairs with me so I could fix a bottle. I thought maybe Meredith had put her down for a nap and then fallen asleep herself. Instead I found her in the guest room, tangled up with a casting director who had his pants around his ankles. I kicked her out and started the divorce proceedings that same day."

He paused and when he continued, the detective could hear both the anguish and the resolve in his voice.

"I hated that she was cheating on me, but I knew that I hadn't been giving her all the attention she wanted. So it didn't really surprise me. I just couldn't shake the thought that I'd only been gone a couple hours and who knows how long Alexis had been crying or would have cried if I hadn't come home when I did. She could have climbed out of her crib or been hurt and Meredith wouldn't have known anything was wrong until it was too late."

He dropped his head, closing his eyes, lines of weariness etching themselves across his face. Beckett lifted her free hand, smoothing across his light stubble and turning him to face her, though his eyes were still closed.

"Look at me," she quietly commanded, and he opened his eyes, unleashing their stormy depths. "Richard Castle, you are a good father and good man."

He began to shake his head and close his eyes again.

"Rick," she said, in a tone that managed to simultaneously come across as both sharp and tender. His eyes snapped open at her rare use of his first name.

"There are people out there who are better looking than you."

He looked surprised, but she continued.

"There are people out there who are funnier than you."

He looked suspicious, but she continued.

"There are even people who are better writers than you."

He looked offended, but she continued.

"But I have never met anyone who was a better father."

Now he looked genuinely touched.

"Thank you," he whispered thickly, and he turned his head ever so slightly to place a gentle kiss on the palm that still cupped his cheek.

"I don't want you to ever forget that. The world may love you for your writing, your friends may love you for your loyalty or the way you make us laugh, but your daughter-she loves you because you're her dad, the only one who has always been there for her. She isn't abandoning you. She's taking the strength and the resourcefulness and the wisdom you've taught her and spreading her wings. But she will fall. At some point or another, she'll fall, and she'll need you to pick her up and hold her and give her the courage to spread her wings again and again."

She paused and looked into his eyes. The blue was slowly returning, just at the edges.

"She'll always be your little girl, Castle, and you'll always be the first man she ever loved. And someday, when you do walk her down the aisle, I guarantee that she will have almost as hard a time letting go as you will."

She felt his grasp tighten on the hand that still held hers at her shoulder. She could see the blend of hesitation and need evident in his eyes. He didn't want to cross the line, she could tell. So she crossed it for him, releasing his hand and drawing him into her embrace.

She twined her arms around his neck, sliding one into his soft hair, even as she felt her partner's arms encircle her waist, one coming to rest at her lower back, the other at her shoulder blade. His nose was buried in her dark auburn locks, and she could feel his warm breath on her neck.

He inhaled her deeply, and she fought hard to contain the shiver that threatened to escape. She had to admit, he was a good hugger, warm and solid. He held her tightly, but he wasn't crushing her. She carded her fingers through his hair and whispered soft assurances in his ear as he let out several shuddering breaths.

Finally, he lifted his head and pulled back from her so that there was an inch or two between them. He leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers.

"Thank you, Kate," he breathed, his eyes closed.

She pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, feeling his lashes flutter open against her cheek.

She retreated, just enough to meet his gaze.

"Always," she whispered.

And she suddenly remembered a color called cerulean frost. It had a hint of shimmer and she had used it often for calm crystal seas. It had always been one of her favorite colors.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: All Castle characters belong to Andrew Marlowe and ABC.

Author's note: Last chapter. Thanks for reading, reviewing, adding to alerts, etc. :)

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><p>For a long moment, they just stared at each other. Then Castle pressed his lips to her forehead, pulling her into one more hug.<p>

"We should probably head back," he whispered, and she nodded against him.

He released her then, turning away from the water and sliding his hands into the pockets of his jacket. She keenly felt the absence of his warmth.

"Shall we stop for fresh coffee on our way? Maybe bring some for the boys?"

"Sure," he answered. "I'll even spring for some pastries."

"Come on, then," she said, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. "There's a little café a couple blocks over. They have this sour cherry pie that's to die for. And the guys will probably like the chocolate walnut cake."

He grinned, a genuine smile that lit up his face and warmed her heart.

"Lead on, dear Detective."

As they began to walk, she slipped her hand from his elbow into his pocket, intertwining her fingers with his. She caught him giving her a sideways glance that spoke of his confusion, but he said nothing out loud and she just gave him a small half smile.

The weather had cleared a bit while they had been standing near the water, and though she could still smell the moisture in the air, the sky was blue once again.

"Turned out to be a pretty day after all," Beckett said, lowering her gaze from the sky to smile at the writer at her side.

"Mmhmm...beautiful," Castle responded, but he wasn't looking at the sky.

Her breath caught in her throat and she felt a warm blush rising in her cheeks at the way he was looking at her. His eyes caught the sun and glittered at her, serious, but still crinkled at the edges.

She was struck by another memory. She had been in high school and far beyond the days spent coloring while her mother read to her, but despite the rebellious phase she was going through, she had kept a secret fondness for crayons. She remembered one day her mother had come home from the grocery store with a package of crayons. They were new colors with gem tones. She had outwardly scoffed at the childish gift, but inwardly looked forward to trying them out.

Moonstone had been her favorite. Long before the others were half used, it was down to barely a nub, used to color aquamarine skies. It was clear and cheerful, a color that reminded her of summer picnics and flying kites with her dad.

"Hey," Castle's voice tugged her from her reverie. "Everything okay?"

She realized they had stopped walking completely, and he was looking at her with a half-bewildered, half-amused expression on his handsome face.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine," she stuttered out. "Just got caught up in a memory for a second."

He quirked an eyebrow at her and she knew he wouldn't leave it alone until she answered.

"I was just thinking about how I used to go on picnics with my parents on days like this when I was little. My dad would always fly kites with me."

His eyes had softened, but not lost their amusement.

"And that made you blush? Why?"

She couldn't think of any possible reason she could tell him about why such a memory would have made her blush, so she settled for the truth.

"No, you made me blush. Just the way you looked at me when I said it was a pretty day and you said it was beautiful."

She couldn't believe she'd actually told him that, and she ducked her head in embarrassment.

"Kate," he said gently and squeezed the hand still wrapped around his own in his pocket.

She lifted her chin and looked at him. There was a small wrinkle in his forehead that always showed up when he was being particularly earnest. His eyes were clear and aquamarine and focused completely on her. And though he wasn't smiling, he still looked joyful.

"You're right, it is a pretty day," his voice was soft and he brought his free hand to her chin, steadying her and stroking his thumb across her jawbone. "But you're the one who's beautiful."

She felt her eyebrows furrow in surprise and he suddenly dropped his hand from her face, though the other stayed tight around hers in his pocket.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I'm sorry," he said, looking chagrined. "It's just the way the sunlight catches your hair and your eyes. You really are beautiful."

"It's okay, Castle," she said, gripping his hand a little more tightly. "I...thank you. You're sweet."

He smiled his adorable half-smile then, and bumped her shoulder with his own.

"Well, now that we've established that you're beautiful and I'm sweet, shall we continue on our quest for coffee and pie?"

"Yes," she declared. "We shall."

With a gentle tug, she steered them in the right direction, and before long they stood in front of a small café with a name she doubted Castle would be able to pronounce. She had found it early on in her career at the 12th, and she considered it one of New York's best-kept secrets. It served a variety of Slavic foods, and though it wasn't quite Russian, it was close enough that eating there brought back good memories of Kiev.

They ordered four coffees, two pieces of the chocolate walnut cake for Ryan and Esposito, and two slices of sour cherry pie for the writer and his muse. The girl behind the counter gave them their desserts first while she prepared their drinks, and Beckett insisted that Castle try his pie while it was still warm.

He took a single bite, and the detective watched as he closed his eyes in rapture, clearly savoring the treat.

"Good, isn't it?" she asked with a smile.

"This is amazing," he affirmed, slowly opening his eyes to meet her gaze.

"I'm glad you like it," she said sincerely, taking a bliss-filled bite of her own pie.

"You know, I discovered about a year and a half ago that I really love cherries."

Something about the tone of his voice caught her attention, and she lifted her eyes to see his glinting with something both mischievous and yet completely vulnerable at the same time.

She was about to respond when their order was called and the moment broken. Castle handed Beckett the bag with their desserts and he took the tray of steaming hot coffee.

"Can we come back here for lunch sometime?" he asked. "There are some things on the menu that look really interesting, but I'd prefer to come with someone who knows what's good."

"Sure, that'd be fun," she responded. "Most of it is pretty good, but I can help you steer clear of a few of the items that require, shall we say, a more acquired taste."

He laughed and they exited the café, heading back toward the precinct with their goodies. They had only gone a few paces when Beckett looked at her partner to find a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"Promise you won't laugh at me or tell me off?" he asked timidly.

She rolled her eyes.

"No, but I promise not to be offended. So spit it out."

"It's just that the pie got me thinking," he started and then paused. "When we were, uh, hugging earlier, I noticed that you don't smell like cherries like you used to. Any reason why? I know my mother used to always use a particular kind of perfume, and then it was discontinued and she couldn't find it anymore. But I managed to track some down on eBay and now she has enough bottles to probably last her the rest of her life."

She listened patiently to his observation, question, and thinly veiled suggestion that he could keep her in bath products for many years. And really, she had no doubt that he would do exactly that if she even hinted that she would appreciate it.

"Actually it's nothing like that," she said. "Josh is allergic to cherries, has been since he was a little kid. Apparently he had one too many bad experiences at family reunions and potlucks and even the smell of cherries makes him panic. So when we started dating, I switched lotions."

"Ahh," the writer said, humor shining in his sky-colored eyes. "It wouldn't do for your boyfriend to have a panic attack every time he was near you. I have a feeling that would give even the most confident woman some kind of complex."

She laughed and nodded her agreement.

"You still smell good, by the way, just less fruity," he said, and the words appeared to have tumbled out of his mouth before his brain could catch them. She could see a faint stain of red beginning to show on his cheeks.

"Thank you, Castle," she said sincerely, and he gave her a lopsided smile.

She had become accustomed to his small observations about her, and while it annoyed her at first, now she appreciated his attention to detail. She thought about his advice to the captain on a gift for his wife. She had to give the writer credit, he was always paying attention.

They had arrived at the precinct and greeted the officers on duty at the front desk as they walked in the doors.

Once they entered the empty elevator, Castle turned to the detective and took her hand.

"Thank you again, Kate," he said quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to back of her palm. "For listening and being there and just knowing what I needed."

She nodded, squeezing his fingers.

"We're partners, Rick. You've been there and listened to me so many times. I'm happy to return the favor."

He smiled and his blue eyes sparkled. There was something shining in them, something she had glimpsed a few times before, hidden in their cobalt depths.

But then the elevator dinged and he released her hand, prompting her with a slight pressure on her lower back to go out before him.

"Hey, they're back," she heard Esposito say.

"Ooh," came Ryan's voice. "And they brought sustenance!"

"Dude, sustenance?" Esposito replied, shaking his head. "You can't just say food?"

As Ryan began to argue his case, the detective and her shadow just grinned at each other, green eyes catching blue. And neither looked away until they realized they had been relieved of both the coffee and the bag of desserts.

"Touch the pie and I think she'll kill you, Esposito," Castle warned.

"No worries, bro," he replied, handing the container to Castle. "I know better than to come between Beckett and her cherries."

And she could have sworn she saw something like hope flash through her partner's beautiful blue eyes.


End file.
